Spira Infinita
by sai-salamander
Summary: A FFX/British Comedy crossover. David Mitchell is a Summoner; Charlie Brooker and Robert Webb are his Guardians. This is their story. Will contain Brooker/Mitchell later on.
1. Of Thunder & Horses

**a/n: **This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).**  
Rating: **PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).  
**Disclaimer:** The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.

* * *

The outside of Djose Temple was vaguely impressive, Charlie had to admit. He didn't necessarily enjoy making such admissions, but the dome-shaped building had a certain symmetry and danger about it, accentuated by the fact that lightning was crackling from the roof like a thunderstorm, though it was not raining. The crack of thunder filled his ears so much so that he was taken by surprise by a pair of Al-Bhed patrolling the area against Fiends.

"What business?" the first said in broken Spiran. His friend towered over him, looming towards Charlie in a threatening manner.

_He could probably snap me like a twig_, Charlie thought. _I'd wager a lot that his blood isn't full Al-Bhed_. "I have no business here, I was just passing through." He waved towards the road which twisted back the way he came. "I saw the lightning and wondered, is all." He waved his pack at the speaker, who had the appearance of a Captain. "See? Just a harmless writer."

The pair conferred with each other. Charlie had picked up enough Al-Bhed in his time to catch a few words here and there – _Yevonite, Summoner, no danger_ – he ground out a smile. No danger. Yeah, that was him all over.

The Captain nodded towards him, his disposition instantly more friendly. "Free to move, to look. Not go inside, hear?" His friend glowered, and Charlie nodded.

"Sure, I won't go inside. Thanks," he said. _Not like I could get anywhere near the place anyway, there's obviously a Summoner in there. Crazy people, Summoners._ He shook his head and decided that eating a late lunch outside the Temple might not be a bad idea. He perched upon a rock that was more flat than pointed and pulled out a bedraggled piece of meat. He placed it atop a piece of stale flatbread and took a huge bite, trying his hardest to ignore the smoky Zu flavour and the fact that the bread was less than healthy. _It was food_, he told himself sternly. _And bad enough that you had to nick it from those sleeping bandits. Imagine if they'd caught you!_ He chewed grimly. Better not to think about the consequences of that. He found himself all too able to imagine the ways they could have tore him apart.

The shop at Djose was a welcome distraction from those thoughts, and he decided to stock up on supplies while he was here. Cramming the last of the meat and bread into his mouth, he stood up and stretched, feeling the reassuring weight of his pack hit him in the thigh like an over-enthusiastic dog.

His hand was literally on the door-handle when a piercing noise filled the air. "What the fuck?" Charlie said, startled. He glared up at the temple where the Summoner was no doubt being torn apart by a furious Fayth for not passing their rigorous tests or something. It sort of sounded like a horse, which was stupid, considering that there'd not been any horses around in Spira for hundreds of years._ Just get your supplies and leave, idiot_, Charlie told himself. _No call for getting involved in Temple business. You're fifteen times as likely to get killed if you go in there, you know. But the story_, a smaller, quieter part of his brain whispered. _If a Fayth has actually killed a Summoner, imagine the scoop. Go on, go and see_. "Oh fucking hell." Charlie turned his back on the shop and pinched the bridge of his nose. He squinted up at the Temple roof, which was still bleeding lightning. "I'm probably going to regret this."


	2. Of Faith & Fayth

**a/n: **This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).**  
Rating: **PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).  
**Disclaimer:** The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.

* * *

"Tell me again why you wanted to do this, David."

David sighed and tightened his grip on his Summoner's staff. The green wood rippled from his touch, and whitened as his grip shifted, moving back to green again wherever his skin was not touching. "Just give me that Sphere, would you?" He held out his hand and took the cool Sphere off Rob. It crackled slightly against his skin, and he squinted at the door in front of him. "It must be this one," he said, not quite feeling the confidence that he was pretending.

"You said that about the last five. And it wasn't them. I know that because I was the one who got lightning to the face, David. You'd better be right about this."

Rob winced as David placed the Djose Sphere into the holder on the door. His eyes closed in expectation of a shock, but none came. "Oh," he said, opening one eye experimentally. "You were actually right." The door slid into the wall, revealing a staircase.

"Onwards and upwards," David said, brightly. "That was the last floor."

"And we both know what's up those stairs," Rob muttered.

"Yes." David was carefully not thinking about what was up those stairs. _One at a time_, he told himself. _One at a time, you can do it. It's only Ixion. Could be worse. Could be Bahamut_. He smiled wryly, thanking Yevon that he hadn't been born in Bevelle. That was a blessing on more than one count.

The staircase was narrow and claustrophobic, and it took no time at all for them to reach the top. The Anteroom. David looked at Rob, who smiled at him and clapped him on the back. "You can do it, mate. Have faith."

David quirked a smile at the unintentional pun and took a deep breath. That door held his future – once it lifted, there was no coming back out unless the Fayth found him worthy. That was big. He took his staff in both hands, took a hold of himself and stepped towards the door, which lifted in anticipation of his entry into the Chamber of the Fayth.

The Chamber was chill and the air charged with tension. His gaze dropped, inevitably, to the Fayth itself, embedded in the very floor of the Chamber. He thought it looked sad. Sad and wise, although how he could tell was anyone's guess, since most of its face was hidden in rock. The hugely muscled arms grasped a horn-spear, and a wing-like structure draped down from its shoulder – _his_ shoulder. David knew the Fayth was male the same way he knew its emotions. The charge of electricity tousled his hair as he knelt, placing his staff on the floor for safe-keeping. He put both palms on the Fayth itself, feeling the jolt as Ixion connected to his mind.

He stood, the all-important connection made. All that remained was to pray. He closed his eyes and sketched out the prayer of Yevon in the air, forming the sphere over and over until his arms ached with the movement and his neck burned from bowing and his hair stuck straight upright from the rising charge in the air.

There was a noise – a whinny – and David's head snapped up, his hands frozen in the sphere. Rushing voices filled his ears – no, it was all one voice – Ixion's voice, deep and dangerous with a touch of stallion madness. It raised to a fever-pitch and David fell to his knees and forward, his palms making jolting contact with the Fayth. Lightning flowed once over his skin, as if testing his endurance, and he shuddered with its passing.

The noise ceased, and only then did David realise just how piercing it had been. His head rang muffled with the absence of sound and he knew that it was done. He was a Summoner now – he could feel Ixion rearing at the corner of his mind, his mighty horn dripping thunderstorms – and he exhaled a sigh of relief before toppling face first onto the Fayth.

He heard, faintly, the rumble of the door lifting and frantic footsteps which shook his hazed vision and then a hand was pulling him into seating and wrapping around him, encompassing him in warmth and safety. _My Guardian_, David thought, dreamily. But there was something different. Something slightly off. David opened his eyes, wincing at the light, dim though it was. He saw Rob hovering anxiously, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword, ready to fight. He looked annoyed, and David wondered why for a second, before realising that, hang on, the perspective on this was all wrong. Who the hell was holding him up? He blinked, his vision clearing, and an unfamiliar, very grumpy-looking face swam into view.

"Who're you?" he mumbled.

"Your fucking saviour," the man said.


	3. Of Arguments & Beginnings

**a/n: **This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).**  
Rating: **PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).  
**Disclaimer:** The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.

* * *

"No, I fucking do not think he should come with us. Look at him!" Rob gestured wildly at Charlie, who was sat on his favourite rock again, trying to look like someone who would be a good Guardian and all that.

"He doesn't even have a weapon, David." Rob's voice went softer, now, and David narrowed his eyes. He hated it when Rob did his soft, angry voice. "Plus he's... he's a writer. _The_ writer, actually. We'd be hounded out of every Temple in Spira – no-one would have us. You'd never get to Zanarkand," he crossed his arms, his shoulders tense, "and you know what that means."

"Yes," David sighed. "But look at us, Rob." He waved his hand at the pair of them, sadly. "What chance do we have anyway? You can only just fight-"

"Hey!"

"Don't interrupt me, Robert." David's voice was dangerous, now, and Rob rocked back on his heels, waiting for the inevitable well-formed argument. "You can only just fight," he repeated. "And I know that you've been practising and all that, and yes, you're getting better, but they say that there's safety in numbers and I am wholeheartedly inclined to agree. And," he raised a finger, "practise isn't going to keep us alive. And yes, I have Ixion now, and more Aeons along the way, naturally, but we can't hide behind them forever-"

Charlie cleared his throat. "Um, I hate to interrupt and all, but I think you're sort of failing to take into account a few things here."

Both David and Rob shot him a glare and he looked meek. "Okay, sorry. I'll just shut up then, shall I?"

"Yes," Rob ground out.

"Thank you," David said. "I... I forgot where I was."

"Insulting my prowess as a fighter, I do believe."

"Oh don't be a baby, Rob. But really, you've got to admit, all that stuff about not letting us in Temples – well, I mean, it's not as if the Temples are all that enamoured of us on our own. What difference is having Charlie along going to make?"

"I just don't think it's wise, that's all. I don't like how they look at you already, let alone with him in tow," Rob jerked his thumb at Charlie, who looked mildly outraged.

"I resent that," Charlie said. "It's not like I'm going to go around waving my cock in the air and pissing on Maesters or anything, you know. And you might have noticed, but it's a bit hard getting things published when you're on the road."

"The man has a point, Rob. We'll only have to deal with past injuries to Yevon, not anything new."

"I suppose he could pretend he's reformed," Rob said.

"I _am_ here, you know. Don't I have a say in this?"

"Plus we can get him a weapon right here. Palla likes me, she'll give us a discount." David looked hopeful.

"Oh fine. I'm not paying for it, though."

"Charlie, you are now officially one of my Guardians!" David beamed at Charlie, who just looked right back at him.

"Fucking hell, I'm not _actually_ getting a say in this, am I? It's a good job I think your story'll be interesting, or there wouldn't be a Pyrefly's chance in Hell of me coming along."

"Pff, you were going our way anyway." David pushed open the door to the shop and smiled at Palla. "Now come on, pick a weapon. I'll buy you it, since you're my Guardian and all."

"What, don't I have to do some sort of initiation ceremony or anything? No running screaming through a pit of hot nails? No unarmed combat with an Elder Drake?"

Robert snickered at the idea of Charlie going one on one with any type of Fiend. "We could make you eat a Flan if you like," he said with an evil grin. "Yum yum."

"Fuck off," Charlie growled. He glared round at the weapons on display. What the hell did he know about choosing weapons? _Get something pointy_, he thought. _You know where you are with something pointy_. The pointiest weapons there were all varieties of spear, with pleasingly stabby-looking ends on them. Charlie could quite easily imagine himself poking a Wolf with one. _Or hitting Rob over the head_. Hm, an interesting thought. He reached out a hand and trailed his fingers over the hafts of each, feeling their wood. It was all a pretence though, he didn't know what constituted a good spear, or even how you _classified_ a weapon as a spear, for that matter. Long Stick With Stabby Bit On End, that's how he'd classify them, and it'd make things a lot fucking simpler.

The stabbiest-looking thing there had a sort of... wide bit on the end, with a hooky bit on the side. It looked like an axe or something, and Charlie knew where he was with axes. They made it obvious where the nice holding bit ended and the nasty death bit began.

"I'll take that one," he said, picking it up from the wall-hooks.

"Ah the halberd, a very fine choice, sir," Palla said with a smile. "Would you care for an enchantment on it? Bit of fire could make your life easier on the road."

Charlie looked desperately at David, who shrugged. "No," he said. "No fire. I don't want to set fire to myself or anything."

Robert smirked from behind Charlie, and picked up a large package of potions. "We'll be needing a _lot_ of these," he said, placing them on the counter next to the halberd. "It's a good job Summoners get a special tab for all the shops, isn't it?"

Charlie raised his eyebrow and folded his arms, pulling his best scathing face. "You will be needing a lot of potions, you're right."

"You what? Are you threatening me?"

"Me? I didn't say a thing." Charlie smiled, showing his teeth. "Where're we going next, anyway? We've got a lot of Temples to visit, right?"

"Oh shit, good point, we need a map," David picked up one of the tightly rolled maps on the counter. "This as well please, Palla. Would you put us up a load of packs, too? Enough to last until Rin's place, at least, I'd say." He picked up Charlie's halberd. "We'll be back to pick up the supplies tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Sure thing, Lord Mitchell." Palla curtseyed behind her counter, and David blushed.

"No, don't do that. Please don't do that."

Rob elbowed David in the ribs. "Come on, you're a proper Summoner now, you're entitled to a bit of respect."

"Yeah, well it makes me uncomfortable, all the bowing and whatnot. I don't have a problem with respect in general, I just wish they wouldn't thrust it at me in the form of genuflection, that's all."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of genuflection," Charlie commented. "It's good for keeping the plebs in order. And I don't want to be the ruiner of plans or anything, but I don't really have anywhere to sleep..." he trailed off, hopefully. Another night with his camping gear probably wouldn't kill him, but he didn't really want to take that chance. Plus he was pretty sure that it was going to rain, or snow, or perform some other form of precipitation on his head.

"Don't worry, you can bunk in with us. Can't he, Robert?" That edge was back in David's voice again – the one that said 'don't you dare fuck with me'. For a Summoner with a poncy robe and the floppiest hair he'd ever seen on a man he sure had a good 'don't fuck with me' voice. Charlie was glad that it hadn't been aimed at him. _Yet_, his inner voice said. _You just wait, he's only known you two minutes. He'll get sick of you soon enough. _He told his inner voice where to stuff it and grinned at David.

"Thanks," he said, feeling vaguely embarrassed at the hint of relief that crept into his voice. _Take that, rainclouds_, he thought. _You're not pissing on me tonight!_


	4. Of Fiends

**a/n: **This is a crossover fic; Final Fantasy X and British Comedian RPS (Charlie Brooker, David Mitchell and Robert Webb).**  
Rating: **PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).  
**Disclaimer:** The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.

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"Go on Charlie, hit it with the pokey end."

Charlie looked terrified as the mushroom loomed at him. Mushrooms shouldn't loom! It was just wrong. Wrong! He flailed outwards with the halberd and wished, not for the first time that day, that he'd taken Palla up on her firestrike offer.

The blade connected with the soft body of the mushroom by sheer luck, scoring a line through it that leaked Pyreflies.

"Oh, go on! Almost!" David was almost jumping up and down with the tension, and even Rob was slightly on edge.

Charlie fixed his grip on the halberd, both hands spread wide, and _stabbed_ at the Fiend. Pyreflies poured from the wound, and the thing disappeared. Charlie let out a whoop of triumph and spun around to face David and Rob, a huge grin on his face. He probably should feel silly for being so goofy, but he didn't because he actually killed a Fiend! Albeit a Fiend that, well, it wasn't moving around very much, and when it did move, it just sort of... waved a load of dust in his face, but still. It was the principal that mattered. And anyway, the mushroom was stronger than the wolves from the other day, according to David, and Rob looked vaguely more impressed than he had the last three times, so that was something.

"That was brilliant," David said, smiling hugely.

Charlie beamed at him, and flopped onto the grass, grabbing a handful of the stuff to clean his halberd with. Rob had whittered on and on about how important it was to clean your weapon after you've used it, and although Charlie had sniggered for about ten minutes after, he saw the sense and now it was sort of a habit.

David joined him, leaning against Charlie's back with a sigh. "It's a lovely day," he said, wistfully. Charlie tensed up as David rolled his sleeves back and loosened his robe – he could feel the heat of his skin pressing against his arm, which made him feel oddly awkward. He laughed, the sound stark against the peace of the landscape. Not like you could feel at ease on Mushroom Rock anyway, considering the scars etched into the land itself. Sound echoed in a funny way, and the air seemed to whistle with Pyreflies, even though Charlie could never see any, not directly. They hovered just out of sight, at the corners of his vision, and he fucking hated it. But not quite as much as he hated the feelings in his stomach that were betraying him for a sissy, all because David had praised him, and David was leaning against him, and David's skin was touching his. It made him want to cover up like a monk, and that was just wrong.

Rob sat cross-legged, cleaning his own sword. He'd dispatched the two giant hornets that were palling up with the mushroom with relative ease. Charlie didn't want to admit it, but he was pretty good. _And why don't you want to admit it_, he thought. _You just think about that for a minute_. Nope, those were not good questions. He finished cleaning the halberd and placed it on the grass next to him. Leaning back on his hands, he allowed David to adjust his position and then let his head drop back so he was looking at the sky. He could see the dark sweep of David's hair from the corner of his eye, and he tried not to stare at the way it mussed in the breeze. _None of that_, he told himself, firmly.

"It's the Mi'ihen Highroad next," Rob commented, laying aside his sword. "Worse Fiends up there, I hear. We might be needing Ixion's help."

David grimaced. He still wasn't full confident of his Summoning capabilities – the sensation of sharing his mind was a decidedly odd one. He found himself occasionally thinking about things differently, as if he were channelling the Fayth's spirit in more ways than one. The big horse – he was reluctant to think of him as a unicorn, simply because it sounded so bloody _twee_ – had clearly been a man of passions when he was alive, and his heady appreciation of life filled David to the brim on occasion, like today. The day was good, the scent was good, the feeling of Charlie's skin against his was good, and he flared his nostrils, enjoying the breeze.

"I suppose you're right," he said, heavily. "The more I get used to it, the less terrifying it'll be when... when I need it."

"Yes, exactly. Get used to it now." _While you still can_.


	5. Of Skills & Crossed Paths

**a/n:** hello all! It's time (finally!) for the next chapter of Spira Infinita~ I'm sorry it took so long to get this up, I could have sworn I'd updated it to like, chapter 9 already. ^_^;; This chapter contains a few cameos from characters we all know and love (well, possibly love. We all know them, anyway). Thanks for all the hits so far! ♥

**Warnings:** terrible language (as usual)

And no, _I do not own any of the characters or people here present_. Alas for me.

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Of Skills & Crossed Paths

The Highroad was, indeed, populated with stronger Fiends. Charlie was now so hardened to battle that he barely flinched at all when something nasty ambushed them, and it totally wasn't noticeable in dim light, and as long as David or Rob didn't comment on it, then it was fine. He was almost deft with the halberd now, having moved up a notch from 'hit it with the pokey end' to 'slash at it in a slightly controlled manner'. As a Guardian, he supposed that he was nowhere near as shit as he could be. Okay, so he spent more of his time staring off into the distance and committing everything to memory than he did actually learning new skills, but there was nothing wrong with that, right? He reckoned that he was well overdue a lesson in something. It chafed a little that Rob knew useful magic, and that David was a veritable genius with a spell, and yet all Charlie could do was wave a halberd around in a non-threatening manner. There had to be a way he could be more... useful. Surely. _You're not so much of an ingrate that you can't learn a bit of magic, Brooker. Just takes a bit of application to the task, that's all. Yeah,_ he thought. _A bit of fucking application and a whole lot of skill you don't have. Stick to insulting people, that you can do. Actually..._

Charlie turned onto his side to face David, who was curled up underneath his blanket. "David?"

"Mm?" David's voice was rusty. It sounded like he'd swallowed an angry cactuar, and Charlie felt slightly guilty.

_You dickhead, he was asleep!_ "Er. Shit, were you asleep? It doesn't matter."

"Ergh no, it's okay," he raised his arm and Charlie could just make out the movement as he rubbed his eyes. "What's up?"

"Well. Um. You know this magic stuff that you do? And Rob's speedy spells and those weird things where he lobs money at Fiends until they go away?"

"Yeah?"

"Dya think there's something I could do like that? Erm, I know I'm not clever enough to do the whole thing with the magic and the mana and the fire, but I could do something, right?" _You sound like a right pathetic git, you do. Just stick to hitting things with the pokey end. You can't go wrong with that._

"It all depends on what you want to do, Charlie." David turned towards Charlie, interest in his voice, and leant his chin on his arm. "You've gotta identify your skills first, I suppose. You know," he waved his other hand. "What you're good at and all that."

"Being rude about people." Charlie smirked. "I'd say that's a definite skill."

"I knew a monk once who fought almost entirely by taunting Fiends until they basically impaled themselves onto his sword. I bet you'd be really good at that." David sounded like he was smiling, and Charlie felt a wash of relief. _I won't be useless!_ he thought. _And I'm really good at taunting people. Oh yeah, I can totally do that. _

"I could be like, a meat shield for you and Rob. You know, I yell insults and distract the fuckers and then Rob stabs them or you sick your unicorn on them or set them on fire. It'd be brilliant!"

David laughed softly. "Yup, that sounds like a plan. But don't let Ixion hear you calling him a unicorn. He might run you through with his horn."

"Further proving that he's a unicorn," Charlie snorted. "But I'd rather not be Ixion-fodder, actually."

"Shit you guys, are you gonna talk all night?" Rob's voice floated out from behind David. "Some of us had a hard day slaying Fiends, you know."

"Sorry," David said, meekly, "it was my fault."

"No it wasn't David," Charlie said, sitting upright. "I woke you up. Sorry Rob." He flopped back down onto his blanket and then cursed the hardness of Rin's bastarding floor and the huge party of Guardians and their Summoner who'd arrived literally minutes before they had and were hogging all the real rooms and the comfy beds. Bastards. He turned over, trying to find a comfortable position for his head. Shockingly, a lumpy pack didn't really make for the best pillow, and he poked at the contents in a desperate attempt to coax them into softness. It didn't work. And now he had something sharp sticking in his neck. _Fucking hell._

Charlie woke up with the least surprising neckache he'd ever experienced in his life. There was a commotion in the next room, the one full of the fuckers who'd stolen their beds. He rubbed his neck with a groan and sat upright, squinting as the sunlight burned away his retinas. David wasn't in his bed, and the sound of water splashing from the corner of the room told him where Rob was.

"What's going on in there?" he asked, palming the sleep roughly from his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Sounds like some nasty shit's going down."

"Something about Chocobos," Rob said, drying his face with a towel. "Yevon knows why, but David felt the need to go and say good morning and he's been stuck in there ever since."

Charlie smiled. David would no doubt be hating every minute of the socialising. It was all very well and good, going to say good morning to a fellow Summoner. Hell, it was almost expected – they were all in it together, after all – but the idea of poor David being trapped in there with the rabble of Guardians triggered some sort of latent protective instinct in Charlie. He knew how much he'd hate to be trapped in a room full of arguing people he felt uncomfortable with, so he could imagine with alarming perfection just how anxious David must be feeling.

"I'm gonna go rescue him," Charlie said, decisively. He ran a hand through his hair and peered into the mirror over the sink.

"You look like a flan died on your head," Rob said with a grin. "You're not gonna go in there like that, are you?"

"Sure I am. It might scare the fuckers away, right?"

"Worth a try. Don't get him into trouble," Rob looked mock-stern.

"Me? Never crossed my mind," Charlie smirked lop-sidedly. He gave his hair one last cursory glance and re-arranged his tunic so it looked slightly more presentable. Although, in all honesty, how presentable can you look when you're travelling on a Pilgrimage with two sets of clothes, one of which got soaking wet the night before, and the other that had seven tears in it? He poked at one of the rips and promised himself for the nineteenth time that he'd sew them up.

Pushing aside the hanging separating the two rooms, Charlie leant casually against the doorframe, taking in the situation. David was sat on a stool in the corner of the room looking disconsolate and Charlie's heart went out to him. The Guardians were arranged about the room in roughly two groups, which were talking over each other. A girl wearing Summoner's clothing was stood on the left side but slightly apart from both groups. She looked like she wanted to say something and she kept opening her mouth and then closing it again. _What was it with Summoners,_ Charlie thought. _Surely they weren't all like that? Some of them managed to bring the Calm, that had to take some strength of mind and purpose, right? Fuck, what did he know? Other than the fact that he really didn't want David to be the bringer of this Calm, not much._

He cleared his throat once, and then again, louder. He smiled broadly when the eyes of everyone in the room met his, noting the look of relief and thanks in David's eyes. "You lot seem to be detaining my Summoner," he said, gesturing towards David, who stood up hesitantly.

"Ch-Charlie," he said, taking a step towards the other Summoner. "This is Lady Yuna, she's a Summoner too, and these are her Guardians."

"Lady Summoner," Charlie nodded his head in greeting at Yuna. "Your lot woke me up, I hope you know."

"I'm so sorry!" Yuna said. She bowed, and Charlie felt horribly embarrassed. He figured this was exactly how David felt when people bowed at him, and decided in that instant that he'd never snark at him about that again. "My Guardians, they... they can be argumentative sometimes."

"I see that," Charlie said, glowering at the Guardians who had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"We should do what Yuna thinks is best," one of them piped up. The blonde, teenagery boy, who Charlie decided that he disliked almost the second he opened his mouth.

"Finally, a sensible idea," the dark-haired woman said.

"If they're determined to go through with the Operation, the least we can do is help them out a bit, ya?"

"It will fail." This from the oldest looking man in the room. He leant against the wall with an air of gravity. "I see no good outcome from this. A waste of resources," he crossed his arms. "I will say no more on the matter, but if Yuna wishes it, we will offer our services." He closed his mouth firmly, and glared around the room as if challenging anyone to disagree with him.

"I think we should help, Sir Auron," Yuna turned to the oldest man. "I... I respect your opinion, but I could not in good conscience stand by and let those people die without helping them, in any way I can." Her words were quiet, but Charlie could feel the depth of her conviction. _Summoners,_ he thought, shaking his head.

"Well, we'd love to stay and chit-chat, but we have a Pilgrimage to continue. Come on, David," he smiled. "We've got to get to Luca, and preferably before the end of the month."

"It was good to meet you, Lady Yuna," David bowed at her. He nodded at the Guardians. "Goodbye."

"And good luck," Charlie said, the amount of sincerity in his voice somewhat startling. If someone else performed the Final Summoning, David wouldn't have to. A comforting thought. They might not have been on the road for long – _two weeks and one day_, his mind supplied – but Charlie was finding himself more attached to David than he ever thought he would be. The first rule of journalism was 'don't become a part of your fucking story' or something like that, and here he was, actually part of a sodding Pilgrimage. Hell, he was invested now, without even meaning to be – getting sucked along, tangled up in feelings he never wanted to have. _Fuck_.

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Please leave me a review/fave if you're enjoying (or not enjoying, any feedback is good feedback)~ ♥


	6. Of Rumours & Supplies

**a/n:** hi guys, it's that time again! Yup, that time for one of my sporadic and short(ish) updates! Thanks for the views and watches and that lovely comment I got! I ♥ you lot.

**Warnings:** terrible language (who's shocked?)

_I do not own any of the characters or people here present_. Sucks to be me.

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Charlie wasn't much of a drinker for the most part, but sitting in the pub with David and Rob was probably one of the best things that'd happened to him yet. Of course, that could just be an innate reaction to finally getting to sit down on something that wasn't a rock or the floor, or to the fact that they were drinking beer instead of slightly stale water from improperly cured waterskins. He clutched his pint like a lifebelt, appreciating the heavy glass less with every sip he took. David was unusually quiet, and Rob was talking about the weather, and whether there was going to be a big Blitzball game while they were in Luca, perhaps they could stay for it? Take some time out, you know?

"Huh?" David blinked at Rob, looking like a man who'd just woken up from a week-long sleep.

"I said we could hang out in Luca for a little bit, see if we can catch a game."

"Oh. Er, I don't know if we should," David took a sip of his beer as he stared off into the distance, Charlie supposed that he was watching the Blitzball coverage on the big screen, but for all he knew, he could be eyeing up the barkeep.

"Yeah, it's not like it's a holiday, is it?"

"I didn't say that," Rob replied, a touch of heat in his voice. "I just think it might be nice to take some time out, you know," he pitched his voice just for Charlie's ears, "take our minds off things?" He emphasised the final word, and Charlie grimaced.

"I know, I know." He leant closer to Rob and made sure that David was still spaced out. "Listen, do you know what's up with him? He's been funny all day."

"I've got no idea, but it's a bit weird. Maybe he doesn't like Luca or something." Rob looked stumped for an answer, and Charlie was none the wiser.

"But surely he wouldn't have suggested staying here for a few days if he didn't like Luca," Charlie said around a mouthful of beer. "No, it must be something else."

David stood up abruptly, pushing the rest of his drink aside. "I'm all done, you two. See you back at the Agency later on, okay?" And then he left without a backwards glance. Charlie and Rob looked at one another, confused.

"Maybe it was something we said?"

"No, we've not been arguing that much lately, it can't be that," Rob tapped his chin.

Charlie pondered as he pulled over David's drink to finish off, but his thoughts were rather rudely interrupted by a group of Blitzballers staggering away from the bar. They were talking among themselves like sound was rapidly going out of fashion and Charlie couldn't help but overhear what they were talking about. Which was the apparently hilarious topic of poncy Summoners taking it up the arse while Sin watched. Charlie felt the muscles in his face tense up with fury as they elaborated further on the joke, making lewd gestures with their hands to punctuate the actions they were describing with painful and intense detail.

And then it hit him. David had bought in their round. He'd gone to the bar; Charlie had watched him say something to the group, presumed that he was saying hello or excuse me or some other politeness, and then watched him walk unsteadily back to their table, his face set in some unfathomable emotion. How could he not have noticed?

"Fuck," he said. "Fuck fuck fuck," he slammed the pint glass down hard on the table and stood up, ignoring Rob's startled face and his stammered questions. "I'm not having this," he said, something snapping inside him as the memory of David's face played on repeat in his mind.

"What the hell?" Rob exclaimed. Charlie shoved their table out of the way and stalked over to the group. "Are you fucking mental?" He got to his feet and followed Charlie, grabbing him by the shoulder just as he was about to take hold of the biggest guy there. Rob pulled Charlie backwards and hissed, "they'll pulverise you, don't bother."

"I don't even care."

"Well you fucking should, cos I am not picking your pieces up off the floor when they beat you to a pulp!"

The large Blitzballer scowled and took a menacing step towards Charlie and Rob, his four friends arranging themselves behind him as if they were squaring off for a match. "What's your problem, eh? Fucking loser, why don't you go join your bender Summoner and let him fuck you like a girl." His groupies sniggered.

Charlie ground his teeth together and imagined just how much fun it would be to smash their faces in with his halberd, but then the adrenaline wore off, and he took in the sheer size of the buggers, and the fact that they outnumbered himself and Rob by two to one, and then some. They'd kick his head off like it was a Blitzball, no doubt.

"Forget it," Charlie growled. "I hope Sin destroys you all, you inbred streaks of shit." He whirled around, jerking his sleeve out of Rob's grasp, and stalked out of the pub. Rob followed him, glad to be out of the firing line.

"So is that the reason the Temples don't like David so much?" Charlie asked, once he'd stalked off some of his rage.

"In a nutshell, yeah. You know what Yevonites are like," Rob rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Unfortunately I do. I've been on their bad side for too many years now. You'd think that going on a Pilgrimage to kill Sin would enamour them to us a little bit more, wouldn't you?"

"It doesn't work like that. Knowing those old tossers holed away in Bevelle, they probably think that it's just and right that David's... you know. It'll be like killing two birds with one stone or something."

"Those fuckers," Charlie clenched his fists. "And people wonder why I spend so much of my time railing against Yevon. It's all fucking rotten."

"Don't worry mate," Rob clapped Charlie on the back. "They won't get to David, not with us around to Guard him. You've learned your new skills now and I'm much better at fighting and everything."

"We'll have a new Aeon soon, too," Charlie agreed.

"Exactly. Those Yevonite bastards, they don't understand sacrifice, sitting up there in Bevelle, nice and safe behind their Machina-"

"Which is fucking illegal anyway, according to them."

"-precisely. Hypocrites, the lot of them."

"Dya think we could persuade David to leave off the Pilgrimage? I mean, until Sin has a proper go at Bevelle at least." Charlie sounded hopeful. Seeing those horrible buggers get washed away by Sin was definitely something he could get behind.

"Somehow, I don't think he'd allow an entire city to suffer for his good name. Look, you go back to the Agency and sit with David, okay? I'm gonna go get us supplies. We'll need a fuckload for on the boat to Kilika."

"Good point. Er, could you pick up a few notebooks, too? I've run out. Oh, and a couple of pens, too."

"Sure. They should have some at the shop. I'll see you later on," Rob turned, raised his hand in farewell and walked off towards the market square. His bright tunic and loose trousers allowed him to blend perfectly with the Luca crowd, whereas Charlie felt more out of place in his muted colours. Someone'd once said that he dressed more like a Guado than a Hume, a comment they'd regretted the week after, when a scathing article had been published containing some really nasty insinuations about their person. But he supposed that there was a modicum of truth in the matter, otherwise why would people stare at him so much? Unless they all knew about David, and were... making assumptions.

He walked slowly in the direction of Rin's Agency. David would be back by now, and probably sat alone, worrying. Charlie resolved that he would do anything to protect David from the rumours and the nastiness. He didn't give two shits about what stuck up, pretentious, wanky old-fashioned Yevonites thought, and he was perfectly happy to write slanderous articles to be published after, well... after Sin. He showed his teeth in a smile, and then he was back at the Agency and pushing open the door to their bedroom quietly.

David was inside, sat on his bed. His knees were pulled up and he hunched forward, resting his forehead on them, his dark hair completely obscuring his face. He did not look up as Charlie sat down on the bed next to him.

Charlie, unsure of how to proceed, reached out his arm and rubbed David's back. He took a deep breath and then pulled David towards him in a hug, wrapping his arms around him like he was comforting a child.

"I nearly got myself killed earlier, you know." He looked down at David's head fondly. "Standing up for your virtue and all that. I mean, not that I wouldn't have beat them down eventually. They'd probably have choked on my fountaining blood and got stabbed by the flying shards of my skull."

David sniggered, and Charlie couldn't help but grin in return. "And I suppose they'd have slipped on your entrails, too."

"Precisely. Got all impaled on my halberd, no doubt. It's all in a day's work, you know." Charlie rested his chin on the top of David's head, inhaling the clean smell of his hair. He felt David's soft intake of breath and Charlie closed his eyes, determinedly not thinking about the nasty rumours or what lay at the end of their Pilgrimage. Hiding from the truth had never been his way, but everything about the Pilgrimage was painful. He squeezed his eyes tighter closed and willed himself to stop thinking and to just _be_.


	7. Of Boats

**a/n:** hi guys, it's update time again! thank you so much for the new follows, it means a lot to know that people are actually reading this.  
Anyway, this chapter is a bit small - more of a transition chapter - so I'll post up the next one quite soon comparatively.

**warnings:** bad language and seasickness

* * *

_Oh god, I'm going to be sick._ Charlie legged it to the railing of the S.S. Whatever The Fuck It Was Called and was, indeed, violently sick over the side. He felt vaguely sorry for the sea for about point-five of a second and then he was thoroughly distracted by feeling intensely sorry for himself as he hurled again. And again. And fucking again.

"How do you even have anything left?" Rob asked. He was leaning over the railing a good distance away from Charlie, looking irritatingly at ease, the smug bastard. His blonde hair danced merrily in the sea breeze and the flap of his long green sleeves filled Charlie's ears, an annoying undertone to the already annoying snap of the boat's sails.

"Piss off," Charlie said, but there wasn't any feeling in it. His voice was raw and painful, and his throat felt like a fire elemental had crawled up out of it.

"How are you doing?" David's voice floated over, and Charlie started as a comforting hand came to rest on his back. David rubbed in small circles and Charlie could feel the coolness of his hand through the thin fabric of his tunic. Somehow, it made him feel a million times better, that regular, soothing motion, and he gratefully felt his muscles relax. He sagged over the railing, inhaling the salt-tinged air and cursing the world that invented fucking bloody boats.

"As well as can be expected," Charlie mumbled, resting his head against the cool metal of the railing, "when your stomach lining feels like taking an extended holiday in the sea."

"I'd say don't worry," said Rob, "only you know, we've got another two boats to come after this."

David shot a glare at Rob over Charlie's back. "The boat from Kilika won't take very long, though," he said. "And we can stay in Besaid for a while. I think I'll need a bit of a rest after two Aeons in such close succession."

"It's not like we're in a hurry anyway, is it?" Charlie grimaced. His voice was muffled by his long sleeves.

"By all rights, we _should_ be in a hurry, Charlie. Sin won't wait forever, you know."

"And I doubt he's going to hold off his mindless slaughter of innocents while we take a spa break in Besaid, either."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I know. Look, would you mind leaving me here for a bit? I might feel better with some quiet, yeah?" _And let's face it,_ he thought, _you don't want to talk about Sin any more than you need to. Cowardly bastard,_ a small voice said at the back of his mind. _I don't fucking care,_ Charlie thought, venomously. _I'd rather be a fucking coward than watch David die_.

David looked at Rob, who shrugged elaborately as if to say 'what can we do?'

"Alright," David said, giving Charlie a hesitant pat on the back. "You just call if you need me, okay?"

_I always need you._ "Yeah, sure."

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thanks for reading! leave me a review if you feel like it~ ♥


	8. Of Flame & Djinni

**a/n:** it's that time again! this chapter is a LOT longer than all the rest so far - rather unshockingly, considering it's an Aeon-chapter. David and crew arrive at Kilika; a new Aeon is gained.

**warnings: **do I have to keep warning for bad language? sigh

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Charlie had stepped off the Yevon-forsaken boat with an overwhelming feeling of relief. He didn't care how inhospitable the forest was, or how small the village was or even how rude the Beasts were as long as he had his feet firmly on dry land. Or at least, vaguely dry land. The docks at Kilika were in a pretty bad way, although from the raw industry surrounding them, it appeared that this was an improvement. Charlie did not want to know what had happened here, but he feared that he knew only too well. The expressions on the villagers faces as they worked, they said it all. You grew familiar with the haunted look of Sin-touched people, whether they had lost someone (they nearly always had) or whether they had just held witness to the passing of Sin and the terrible destruction that followed in its path, wherever it went.

Charlie had seen Sin once, though it was from afar. He had watched, wide-eyed, as it ripped through an entire mountain with ease. It hadn't even broken a sweat. He shivered with the memory. It wasn't like Fiends, where you knew with certainty that they had once been alive. Sin was something else entirely – something strange and foreign and utterly wrong – and it had destroyed Kilika just as it had destroyed Mushroom Rock and countless other areas of Spira.

The rebuilding appeared to be moving at a good pace. There were more houses erect than not, although whether they could technically be called houses was debatable.

Charlie, Rob and David walked through the debris like ghosts through a crowd. The villagers were intent on their repair-work with only a few of them pausing to offer the customary bow of respect. Probably fucking sick of Summoners by now, Charlie thought. Yevon can't help them, and people're starting to realise. But they'll forget all that once the Calm rolls round again, just like every other time and they'll love their Summoners again for giving them the Calm. But now, no. Sometimes he could swear that people thought Sin was attracted to Summoners. _Like a giant fucking whale to krill,_ he thought with a grim smirk.

The canopy of Kilika forest provided some scant shade, though it was still a lot hotter than Charlie had been expecting. From the moment that they set foot on the docks he was sweating, and walking through the forest didn't help at all. _It was probably the humidity,_ he told himself. _Definitely nothing at all to do with elements and Aeons and fire and all that, oh no._

The forest was eerily quiet, save for the few Fiends here and there; Killer Bees were nothing for Charlie's halberd, Ragora burned up in seconds with David's Fira and Rob was nippy enough to take care of the Dinonix with ease. Charlie felt a smugness inside at their efficiency – they were working better as a team with every battle, and he had his new Skills now for when they took on a big bastard. The day he learned Provoke and Sentinel was his proudest yet. There wasn't anything quite like the thrill of drawing a Fiend attack away from David and then seeing their faces as Rob flanked them and pulled off one of his dirty moves. When he wasn't lobbing their valuable gil at Fiends, Rob was a pretty handy fighter, Charlie had to admit.

"I hope there's nothing nasty further in," Charlie said. He propped his halberd against a tree. "We should have a break for a little while."

David nodded. "No sense in getting too weary before the Cloister," he said, settling down onto a large protruding root. He brushed his floppy fringe out of his eyes and blew air upwards in an attempt to cool himself down a little. "It's so warm!" he exclaimed.

"I blame Ifrit," Charlie said. He was engrossed in the large task of rolling up his sleeves. The pale material of his tunic wasn't the heaviest around, but when it was as roomy as Charlie's, it was quite an effort getting them to stay up. The sleeves themselves were as wide as a blitzball, if not wider, and they were edged with a broad band of grey-purple. All the colours he wore were muted; his wide trousers were faded blue, and the tunic itself was dark grey. "Argh, this is actually fucking useless." His sleeves fell back down to their full length and Charlie sat down, frustrated. "I might as well just cut the buggers off and have done with it."

"No, don't do that. We'll figure something out."

"Set fire to them," Rob said, cheerfully. "You won't feel the heat if you're dead."

"How about I set fire to your arse, Webb." Charlie glared half-heartedly at Rob. He was too warm to give too much of a shit.

"Here, look," David said, holding out his hand. A tangle of brightly coloured string dangled from it. "You could use this to tie them up."

Charlie took the strings and attempted to work on his left sleeve. "I don't think my arms are bendy enough," he said, making a flailing gesture towards his shoulder. "See?"

"You should take a lesson from an ochu," Rob said, smirking. He was sat with his back against a broad-trunked tree and he looked infuriatingly cool.

"It's alright for you," Charlie said. "You've got bastarding short sleeves, haven't you?" He lifted up his arm as David leant over.

"Come here," David said with mock weariness. He looped the string round somehow and tied it in a firm knot and then, amazingly, they stayed where they were. Charlie watched as David tied the other one, enjoying the expression of concentration on his face. _He looks so serious,_ Charlie thought. _That's oddly adorable._

"There!" David said, clapping his hands. "You look perfectly charming."

"You look perfectly ridiculous." Rob smirked. "You could use those as armbands if you decide to go join your puke in the sea."

Charlie hauled himself upright. He grabbed his halberd and poked Rob with the end of it before he could dodge out of the way. "Thanks David," he said, grinning. "Come on then, we'd better go, eh?"

"Yeah, don't wanna be stuck in the forest after dark. Could be anything out here."

"Nothing as bad as you on a morning," David said with a grin.

"Like you're not just as bad, Mister Grumpy Summoner."

"I think it's safe to say that mornings aren't the best of times for all of us." Charlie grimaced. _Not when you look like you've been slapped in the face with a lightning bolt after spending the night camped on top of a hill in the middle of the Thunder Plains, and not when you smell as bad as if ten million wolves had farted on you during the night._

xXx

_Getting lost is perfectly allowable,_ Charlie thought. _Especially when you've never been to the place __before_. As it turned out, the massive Temple on top of the hill wasn't enough of a landmark to steer them right, but they did eventually get there.

"Fuck me," Charlie panted. "That was a lot of stairs."

"And I thought you'd have been getting a lot fitter after all this fiend-killing exercise you've been having," Rob said. He was standing at the top of the stairs, his hands on his hips, looking like he'd just enjoyed a short walk. Smug git.

"Is it me, or has it got much hotter all of a sudden?" David looked around and wiped sweat from his brow. The Temple itself loomed in front of them from across a square courtyard. Charlie swore there was a shimmer of heat around it, although that wasn't too surprising, considering the Aeon who called this place home. _I wonder if they call anywhere home,_ Charlie thought. Aeons were still a mystery to him, no matter how many times he'd seen Ixion spring from lightning in the air; no matter how many times he'd leaned against the unicorn after a taxing battle and tasted the electricity crackling off David and got static shocks just from brushing against his shoulder.

"You're not going to start spontaneously combusting after Ifrit are you, David?" Charlie worried at his lip. "Cos you know, I'm not sure I'm okay with that."

"Wuss," Rob said.

The Temple at Kilika was squat, for what buildings there were to either side of it. But in all honestly, it more reminded Charlie of a pit, just waiting, jaw open and ready for them to walk inside. The heat was stifling - even more so here than it had been in the forest. At least in the forest there had been the dubious shade of the trees, and the humidity that went with it, but up here, at the top of the plateau, there wasn't even a breeze. The air shimmered and danced, and Charlie scrubbed at his eyes.

"This place'll make me go fucking cross-eyed at this rate."

"Well, you don't need to see the Fiends to Provoke them," Rob said, sauntering ahead of the group and down the stairs.

_Into the Pit of Doom_, Charlie thought. "I hope the Cloister's not too taxing," he said out loud. "I'm pretty sure I've lost about half of my brain cells to this heat."

"Not much of a loss," Rob replied with a grin. "Your brain won't miss two cells."

Charlie elbowed him sharply in the ribs and was gratified to see David laugh. He'd been slightly subdued since Luca, and it was nice to see him a bit less tense. _Although_, Charlie thought, _tension was pretty much part and parcel of being a Summoner, especially when there's a good chance you could be about to be roasted into cinders by Ifrit. _

He shuddered, and David shot him a curious look. "You can't possibly be cold in here," he said.

"Nah, not cold. Just, you know." Charlie waved his hand around vaguely. "This place. These places. They give me the willies."

"They're not exactly my favourite places in the world either, you know. That whole possible death thing can be a bit awkward."

"Yeah," Charlie said. "Yeah..."

xXx

It was the prayer that got to him, really. It was hard on the body, performing the same movements over and over again, and David suspected that he was a little too old for this. His back protested, and his arm muscles protested, and the heat was almost blistering. Sweat poured down his brow, slicking his fringe and blurring his vision until all he could see was smudges of stinging red.

Ifrit's voice chanted deep and faithful, there, yet not there. David could feel it through his feet and through his skin, thrumming and intense. The heat rose through the floor, through the Fayth itself enveloped in glass and prayer - his claws sheathed in stone. His hair was spread out as if blown by some dread wind and he was muscled, moreso than Ixion had been, and David could but wonder what strength would lie in those arms. What strength could burn him up from the inside out, were he to fail.

Shudders ran through him, hot then hotter and the intensity of the hymn grew until David could not keep his muscles from spasming. A thought about heat being good for muscle pain flashed through his mind for a second, accompanied by the image of Charlie pacing back and forth outside the Chamber and then he fell forward onto his knees. His hands flew out to steady himself, and he gasped as they made contact with the Fayth - the glass was blisteringly hot, but he could not remove his hands. He dropped his head down to stare at Ifrit and saw his eyes flicker to red and then back in the reflection.

It was done. David could feel Ifrit within, intimate and _warm_ like a lover. He wiggled his fingers carefully against the Fayth-glass - they moved, albeit painfully - and he whipped them off before he could regret it, leaving scraps of skin stuck to the Fayth. _An offering_, he thought, setting his teeth against the sting. Each of his fingers was missing a strip, and the raw flesh shone wet and red like fire.

David cradled his hands into his chest and offered a silent _thank you_ to his new Aeon. Losing a bit of skin was nothing compared to what could have happened had Ifrit declined their partnership. You didn't really hear much in the public about what happened to Summoners who failed the test of wills that acquiring a new Aeon required, but there were enough rumours flying around to draw a few unpleasant conclusions.

The door slid upwards and David just about stopped himself from falling through the doorway and into the Anteroom. Charlie and Rob rushed over and David gave himself over to them, glad for their care and willing to give in to selfishness.

xXx

_Fucking boats_, thought Charlie. _Fucking wanking bastarding boats. _He curled up in the stern of the Al Bhed vessel, his face pressed against the railings so that the wind blasted him right in the face. It was almost enough to blow away the sickness with its chill; almost enough to dispel the dreadful fear that gripped him as his muscles spasmed for the umpteenth time, but not quite. He wondered, briefly, if he looked as sour as he felt. _Most likely_, he thought. _I bet you look like sour milk spit up the wrong end of a Land Worm._

Kilika to Besaid was the longest boat journey on their Pilgrimage - Charlie knew their itinerary almost off by heart by now. He didn't care how long it took to get up the Moonflow, or whether they all froze to death like disgusting, ugly ice statues on Gagazet just as long as he never had to get on a fucking boat ever again. _Except, you know, that other boat right after Besaid_, his mind said, nastily. _Fuck you, he thought. Fuck you and the boat you sailed in on._

_

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_thanks for reading~ please review if you enjoyed it! ♥_  
_


	9. Of Wings & Wind

**a/n: **WELL HALLO. I know, I know, very bad form of me to be taking so damn long, eh? I can but apologise, dear readers!**  
Rating: **PG-13 - Bad language, courtesy of our Charlie (of course).  
**A Summary:** Sometimes, Aeons can be right fucking dickheads.

**Disclaimer:** The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.

* * *

Charlie liked Besaid. It was quiet and small, and people didn't have huge expectations of him. Being on an island probably had its benefits when it came to hiding out from angry Yevonites. He suspected that they didn't get very updated news, and the range of publications probably wasn't massive, either. _Although_, he thought, _that hasn't stopped the bloody Monks giving me the evil eye. Suspicious bastards._

The interior of the Temple was as peaceful as the village itself. Grey statues lined the walls; the latest of which, Charlie knew, was the High Summoner Braska's likeness. The father of the Summoner they had met at Mi'ihen, and the bringer of the last Calm. Charlie knew his story inside and out - there was some sort of fascination with Pilgrimages for him, and what it was that lay at their ending, so far away in Zanarkand.

Charlie sat on the floor, legs crossed, while David and Rob prayed before High Summoner Braska. When they were finished, they joined him on the floor. There was no-one to give them disapproving looks save the door guard, stood to one side of the opening into the Cloister. Charlie ignored him, a skill he'd picked up and perfected years ago. "All done?" he asked. A redundant question, but it broke the silence of the Temple adequately.

"Yes, I think so," David replied, tucking his feet underneath the excess material of his robe. He sat neatly, unlike Rob, who spread his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his hands. "You know, I think I might be okay to carry straight on after Valefor," he said, looking at his hands. The skin on his fingers had started the healing process, which could have taken a fraction of the time had David used his magic to help it along, but he had adamantly refused when Rob suggested it. Charlie reckoned that he was letting them heal on their own as some sort of offering to Ifrit, but he had a suspicion that there was some sort of underlying stubbornness and pride behind it, too. Like the way that he was reluctant to fully rely on Rob and Charlie as his Guardians, almost as if he thought they'd let him down, somehow, or as if he was afraid to get too close to them and bare a part of himself that he kept locked away.

_I doubt you'll be in perfect condition after Valefor_, Charlie thought, sourly. _Fucking Aeons're almost more trouble than they're worth_. "If you think so," he said, doubtfully. "She is the third though."

"Half way," Rob said.

"Almost more than half way." David settled his hands into his lap, palms upwards, careful to not let the healing skin touch anything. He'd essentially been out of commission since Ifrit. It's hard to hit a Fiend with your staff if your fingers are all skinned so raw you can't even touch it. The only shining light about being on the boat from Kilika was that there were almost guaranteed no battles. Unless Sin decided to strike, and if that was the case, they were pretty much fucked anyway. Sin didn't care much for being poked with a Summoning staff.

"Yeah, so after Valefor there'll only be Shiva and Bahamut left."

"Unless we're planning on exploring after those rumours," Rob said with a grimace. "Although saying that, I don't fancy our chances."

"I heard there was a Fayth in a cave somewhere near the Calm Lands," Charlie said, resting his head in his hands. "But I agree with Rob. There's bloody Tonberrys down there, not to mention Ghosts and all sorts of nasty fuckers."

"I knew someone who got on the wrong side of a Magick Pot." David's brow crinkled as he tried to conjure up the memory. "Sirius de Something."

"What happened to him?" _Probably never seen again_, Charlie thought. _Fucking Pot probably ate the poor bastard and then spat out his shoes._

"He legged it." David smiled. "You would almost think he'd learned a lesson from you, Charlie."

"Cheeky bastard." Charlie shoved David's shoulder. "I'll have you know I wrote the fucking manual, damn right he learnt a lesson from me."

David laughed, loud and startling, and the door guard glared in their direction.

Rob grinned. "I don't think we're meant to be laughing, you know." He pulled a serious face. "Got to be stern, like him!" He nodded violently in the direction of the guard.

David's shoulders shook from trying to hold in his laughter. "Shh," he said, flapping a hand at Rob. "He won't let us into the Cloister if you piss him off!"

"Does he really look like he can stop us?" Charlie smirked. The guard was massive - he looked like a Blitzballer from his dress - and he had a rather magnificent glower currently attached to his face, which was partially covered by a metal mask in the shape of a hooked beak. "We all know Blitzballers can't stand up to the might of us."

Rob sniggered. "Yeah, he's probably heard about that team in Luca you decimated, Charlie."

"Precisely."

"The Fayth is ready for you, Lord Summoner Mitchell," the guard said. His voice was as large as his stature, and it echoed around the empty Temple strangely. He performed a prayer, and then walked down the short flight of stairs, where he stood pointedly, looking down both his nose and his beak at the group.

"Okay," said David, getting to his feet. "Are you two ready for the Trials?"

"As ready as you can be," said Charlie. He stood next to Rob, and they followed David up the stairs and into the Cloister of Trials.

xXx

It was cooler inside than Ifrit's had been, darker than Ixion's, but there was a distinct wind that was almost instantly noticeable. Charlie shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself. "It's a bit draughty in here," he complained. "I bet there's some Monks hidden in the walls with a load of giant bellows, just to fuck with us."

"Sounds about right," Rob agreed. "Here look, there's a Sphere in this door." He picked it out of the hollow and handed it to Charlie. "You keep hold of that one and I'll get the next one, okay?"

"Alright. David, keep an eye out for this sigil." Charlie held out the glowing white Besaid Sphere for David to see. "Shouldn't be too far away, I don't think."

David looked at the sigil and smiled. "This Cloister isn't very big, I'll go and have a look." Charlie looked dubious, and David batted him with the back of his hand. "Nothing's going to leap out and eat me, don't worry." He set off before Charlie could protest, his staff strapped diagonally across his back and the colours of his robes the brightest thing in their immediate world. He disappeared around the corner, and Charlie's heart fluttered embarrassingly with worry. _Stop being so fucking irrational, you idiot. He's not going to get swallowed up by a Pot. Oh shit, he could get swallowed up by a Pot! _Charlie set off in an undignified run and collided with David, who was rounding the corner to come back to them.

"Ow, fuck Charlie, what are you doing?"

"I thought there was a Pot," he mumbled, just as Rob appeared at his back with another Besaid Sphere.

"No, there's no Pots in Cloisters, idiot. There isn't even a tiny little spider in Cloisters. Yevon, anyone would think you'd been mugged in one of these places the way you're acting." Rob held out the Sphere. "Anyway, I found another one. I doubt there's any more."

"I have the last one," David said, holding out a different kind of Sphere. "It's a Glyph Sphere, see? Where did you get that first Besaid one from?"

Rob pointed to the second door they'd come through, and David took his Sphere over there. "Just stick this one in here and aah, there we go." David smiled triumphantly as the wall to his left lit up in a complex shape. He reached out to touch it and then drew back his hand with a hiss as the painful skin on his fingers caught on the rough wall. "Ow," he said, shaking his hand to dispel the pain.

Charlie looked disapproving. "I do wish you'd use a Cure on that, David."

"Shh," David said. "I can hear a door opening. Come on!" He set off back down the corridor, not looking back to see whether Charlie and Rob were following him. "There we go. Charlie, yours goes in there," he pointed at a pillar about waist-high, "and yours goes in that hole there, Rob," he pointed again to a setting that the Glyph Sphere had revealed.

Charlie and Rob placed their Spheres and then the wind grew in intensity as the final door of the Trials opened. "See, I told you it would be easy." David shot a smile at Charlie, but it wasn't enough to hide the nervousness that sparked behind his eyes.

xXx

Valefor's was the most different Fayth he'd seen yet. He knew from listening to Charlie's stories that she had been a young girl before she was a Fayth. Just a child, dreaming of wings and wind and trusting to her faith. Her wings were huge, and beautiful like nothing he'd ever seen. It would be so easy to underestimate her power, so easy to simply not try as hard, but David gathered his resolve and began the ritual of praying and motion and hoping.

It was chilly in the Chamber of the Fayth - that damned wind again - and David crooked a little smile thinking of what Charlie's reaction would be, his concentration broken for a split second.

Aeons are proud souls; their Fayths even more so. They do not suffer anything but pure will and faith.

The wind increased until it was near shrieking, tearing at David's robes until they flapped crazily about him. He felt like he was about to take off, but he squared his feet and tried to bring his body mass lower to the ground, like Rob had taught him. It seemed to help a little bit, or at least, he caught his balance and was in a bit less danger of being knocked right off his feet. The wind did not cease. If anything, it seemed to react to his new stance by redoubling its efforts in both noise and power.

It took every ounce of David's not-inconsiderable willpower for him to not clamp his hands over his ears when the pressure built, but he focused all his efforts on the motions of the prayer and managed to achieve a sort of odd detachment from the situation. He was _aware_ of the pain, but the feelings that came with it were far away, as if muffled by leathery wings, just as he was _aware _that something wasn't quite right about his body. A massive shock-wave made him stagger back a pace, but it didn't appear to have done any damage, so he continued with his prayers until a small, child-like voice filled his mind.

"You have not unprodigious power, Summoner. So be it."

With pride, David noted that he had not fallen over this time. The concentration wore off, and he was made suddenly and painfully aware of what felt like a whole-body bruise. He winced with every step it took him to reach the Anteroom. It felt like he'd been caught in a massive vice for a week. He smiled weakly as Charlie and Rob came rushing over. Their worry was gratifying - it made him feel like he was a person and not just an Aeon-jar.

He saw Charlie's lips move, and then again, more urgently. Rob just looked at him, his stark white face standing out in the gloom. "What's the matter with you two?" David said. _Oh. _"Can you hear me?"

Charlie nodded rapidly. He reached out and took David's head between his hands, turning it gently to the left and then to the right. He made a wiping motion and brought his fingers in front of David's face. Blood. There was blood all over Charlie's fingers. "Fuck, am I bleeding?" David exclaimed. Charlie nodded again. And then it dawned on him. It wasn't his voice that was the problem. "I-it was the wind," he said.

Charlie's hand was still cradling his face, David noticed slowly. It was as if his brain was stuffed with cotton as well as his ears; all he could do was stare dumbly back at Charlie, whose fingers were twitching in his hair. Charlie's eyes widened and he snatched his hand away as if he just realised where it was. Charlie turned to Rob and they both glanced at him before breaking out into what David assumed was a heated conversation. He imagined there was shouting to accompany the hand-gestures.

They appeared to come to an agreement. Charlie took hold of David's left wrist and Rob took his right, and they led him out of the Anteroom like an invalid. _I'm bloody deaf not blind, _he wanted to yell, but he kept his mouth shut and allowed them to take him to the biggest hut in Besaid. He assumed that the woman sat cross-legged behind her low table was a shopkeeper, and he was proved right when Charlie handed over an obscene amount of gil for a small package, which the woman slid across the table with a wide grin.

Rob said something to David, his mouth moving meaninglessly before he caught himself and stopped, a flush of red creeping over his face. It was dark outside now, David noticed, and when he looked back at Rob he saw that one of them had got a notebook - probably one of Charlie's - and scribbled in it.

_We got you a Remedy, _it said. There was a little picture of a smiling stick man underneath, with what could either be a thumbs up on the end of his hand or some sort of pastry.

Charlie said something with a wry look on his face and Rob looked like he found it incredibly amusing. Holding out the Remedy, Charlie made a thumbs up gesture as David took it and examined the instructions, which were incredibly simple. He pulled out the stopper from the Remedy and swallowed the whole dose. It tasted faintly of lemons and flowers, and it burned right at the back of his throat. He coughed, hard, and then something went _pop_and all the sound poured into his ears. Besaid was far from peaceful when you've just recovered from being deafened by a pissed off Aeon. David could hear a dog barking and some children running around; the wind rustling leaves and the rattle of a spinning wheel in one of the other tents. He exhaled and smiled shakily at Charlie and Rob, who were looking as on edge as a tight-rope walker. He held up a thumb and Charlie grinned in relief.

"Thank fuck for that," Charlie said.

"Yeah," said Rob. "If you'd have carried on like that we'd have been deafened in a week with all your shouting."

David mock-glared, and bumped Rob with his shoulder. "Piss off," he said loudly.

Rob grimaced and twiddled a finger in his ear. "What did you say?" he yelled, and David dissolved into laughter.

xXx

The thing about boats, Charlie found, was that you never really got used to bobbing up and down like a rubber duck in the bath. Oh sure, eventually you got your _sea legs _and all that shit, but just as soon as you swapped back to the sanity of land again you were walking like you'd been buggered sideways with a battering ram the whole journey and looking like a total mentalist. It just wasn't natural.

It had taken Charlie half of the journey to the Moonflow to get his "sea legs" - in his case they were less sea legs and more vomitless legs - and he was feeling faintly disgusted about the whole process. Sure, he was fucking rejoicing for the sudden dearth of vomit in his life, but he couldn't help thinking that there was something worse coming along as a replacement. As it was, he spent most of his time on the deck anyway - the cabins were far too closed in for his liking, and the first night he'd stayed in one, on the way from Luca to Kilika, he'd spent the whole night imagining in great detail just how it would feel when Sin bashed their boat in and he got impaled on pieces of too-close wall and he just _couldn't get out _and that was not his idea of fun, thank you very much.

The ability to be sat on the deck, his legs hanging over the side and enjoying the breeze rather than hurling into it was definitely a new experience, and an enjoyable one at that. Charlie smiled up at David when he came to join him, shuffling over slightly to give him enough room to get his legs out between the railings.

"You look shockingly un-green today."

"I know, right? I don't know what happened. It's like I just woke up and my stomach lining'd taken a holiday from barfing up acid every two seconds. S'nice, really."

"I expect it is. I must admit, I was sort of wondering how long it was until you actually puked up your lungs or something."

"At least if I'd have done that, you'd have had something to lob at Sin. I mean, no one likes being hit in the nostril by a flying lung, right? Job done. Who needs a Final Aeon anyway?" _Shit. Why did you mention the Final Aeon, you insensitive prick? Quick, change the subject!_" Er. So how long is it til we get to the Moonflow?"

"I keep seeing it in my dreams," David said, quietly. He stared at the horizon. "Sin. And all I can hear is destruction, and the Hymn. Always the fucking Hymn. You're dead, you know. In my dreams. And Rob. And-" his voice broke. "I fail." He laughed - a bitter sound - and Charlie's heart contracted painfully.

Charlie bumped David with his upper arm, but he didn't move away afterwards. He leaned his head on David's shoulder and they sat in silence, not heeding the chilling wind or the fact that it soon started to rain heavily.


	10. Of Camping

**a/n: **okay, so I'm officially caught up (and more!) with what I lost in the Big Laptop Fail of 2011! Prepare for actual new chapters, zomfg.**  
Rating: **PG-13 - Bad language (I wonder if I need to warn for this any more) and very faint gayity.  
**A Summary: **Camping, and the joys of such.

**Disclaimer:** The characters within do not belong to me. Although it's a crossover fic, it is also part RPS, so if you object to this in any way, please do not read on.

* * *

The Moonflow. The roads were wide and the weather was pleasantly good. Charlie was enjoying the simple feeling of wind not tinged with salt. It'd taken him a day or so to lose the embarrassing rolling, bow-legged walk that Rob said made him look like he'd been buggered by a Flan. It'd also taken about a day for the Fiends to get wind of new people on the road, but by that time, Charlie was itching for a good fight anyway.

"I think being cooped up on all those boats did something to your mind," Rob commented, as Charlie beheaded a Garm for the fifth time that day.

"Didn't do shit to my mind," Charlie grunted. He wiped the blade of his halberd on the grass. "I just feel like killing some stuff, alright?"

"It's not as if the Fiends on here are challenging though, is it."

"I don't want a challenge, David. I want to mindlessly slaughter Garms for a bit. The Moonflow is fucking boring, and we've only been on it for two sodding days."

"Cheer up mate," Rob said. "We've got a nice ride on a Shoopuf soon."

"Yeah, that's always a laugh," said David. "And it's better than boats, at least."

xXx

Okay, so the Shoopuf _was_ better than boats. It was all high up, and Charlie actually quite liked the gigantic creature they were riding on. The basket barely swayed at all, and the river was peaceful on all sides of them. It was growing dark - they would have to set up camp almost as soon as they landed on the opposite bank - and the Pyreflies were out in full force. Charlie liked Pyreflies. They were pretty, although he wouldn't admit that out loud, and their funny little song made him feel calmer, somehow. _Pretty macabre, really_, he thought. _Those things are just dead people, floating around, getting in your soup. Colourful dead people though, _he admitted. They were sort of like miniature comets, and their colours reminded him of Valefor's vivid wings.

The Aeons were curious things. At once terrifying and beautiful, Charlie never really knew how to behave around them. Do you treat them like animals, or venerate them like gods? Fuck knows. He mostly just tried to stay out of their way when they were exploding things with their laser beams or filling the immediate vicinity with an inferno and not to mention throwing the entire stormy sky down on top of a single Fiend's head.

He didn't get to see them very often though - David only Summoned when the need was dire. They'd only seen Valefor once, when David was testing their connection the day after finishing the Trials.

"So which Aeon is it next?" Charlie asked, although he already knew the answer. He was leaning on the side of the basket, watching the Pyreflies.

"Shiva," David replied. Charlie saw him shiver out of the corner of his eye.

"The ice bitch." Rob grimaced. "Could Ifrit help you keep warm in there?" Neither of them really knew what happened in the Chambers of the Fayth, but after the bother with Valefor, they couldn't help but worry about the remaining Aeons.

"He probably would help, yes. But I'm not sure how... effective his help could be." David didn't say it out loud, but Charlie knew he was thinking back to Valefor. "Another slip like last time and she could turn me into a rather fetching ice-statue."

"You won't slip," Charlie said. _I believe in you._

"Well, I'm glad _you're _convinced." David sank his head into his hands, suddenly tired. "Is it far to the bank?"

Charlie stared through the mist-shroud and shook his head. "Nah, we'll be there in no time. Dunno about you, but I could murder a good sleep on solid ground."

Rob elbowed Charlie in the ribs. "You're only so tired because you spent the entire day killing innocents."

"Oh yeah, Fiends are right innocent cunts aren't they? I bet they wouldn't murder you in your sleep. And they _definitely _wouldn't eat your corpse afterwards."

"_You_ _don't know _that they eat corpses!"

"Oh come on, have you seen the teeth on some of those things? You're honestly telling me you don't think a Behemoth would have a crafty munch?"

"A _crafty munch_?"

Charlie pointedly ignored Rob. "Hey look, the bank."

"Oh, thank Yevon." David stood up and smoothed down his robe.

The Shoopuf ambled closer and the Hypello driver threw a rope-ladder over the side. He made a shooing motion with his two-fingered hands as Charlie eyed the ladder warily. It looked a lot worse going down than it had coming up. He swallowed, and tried his hardest to dismiss the sudden vision of himself toppling from the Shoopuf and then getting crushed to a pulp as the creature stood on him accidentally. _That would just be embarrassing_, he thought. "Oh fuck this shit," he proclaimed, taking firm hold of the top rung. He swung himself over the side of the basket with a hell of a lot more bravado than he felt, and then carefully climbed down the ladder, feeling for each rung and generally taking three times as long to get down as a proper man would.

"Charlie, I know you like looking at my arse, but would you get a sodding move on? I'm knackered." Rob was stuck above Charlie, who was crawling down the ladder as if it could disappear at any moment.

"Fuck off, Webb," Charlie snapped, alarmed at the sudden lack of a rung beneath his foot. He then proceeded to feel like a right twat as he realised that that was because he was _on the ground now_, and that would be why his ankles were getting wet. He stepped away hurriedly, giving Rob and David enough room to get off the ladder. "Add rope ladders to the list of shit I don't like," he groused.

David smiled. "I think we should start making a list of things you _do _like. It'd be smaller."

"Definitely." Charlie held his arms out as the driver lowered down their luggage. It swung dangerously on the rope harness, but he managed to catch it without hitting himself in the face. "Ugh, this is officially far too light. We'll have to come back here in the morning to stock up before Guadosalam."

"I don't think it takes that long to get there from here, you know." Rob took one of the bags off Charlie and swung it over his shoulders. It hung loosely off the strap.

"Well, maybe, but we can't live off air and grass. We're not Chocobos."

"Chocobos don't eat grass, they eat Greens. Chocobo care 101, Charlie." David laughed. He picked up the last of the packs - the lightest, simply because Charlie and Rob wouldn't have it any other way - and set off away from the river. Rob was right about the distance to Guadosalam, it was probably no more than a day's walk away, maybe two if they took it slowly. David thought that they would take it slowly. He knew that Charlie was enjoying being on land again, and if he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't exactly eager to be standing in front of Sin at Zanarkand. "Come on." He squinted at the sky, shocked to see how dark it'd become in the last ten minutes. "We're going to have to get a move on if we want to get camped before full-dark."

xXx

It didn't take them long to find a suitable clearing, which, on any other day, Charlie would be inclined to be suspicious about, but right now he just didn't give a shit. Rob had gathered some firewood while Charlie struggled with the tent fabrics, and then David set the wood alight with a few muttered words and a wave of his hand. Sometimes, Charlie wished he was magically inclined. It seemed to make the world a lot easier at times like this. But then he remembered the first time someone had tried to teach him a spell - a simple Water - and he'd flooded their home and almost the entire village, and he thought better of it.

The light from the campfire danced off the colourful tent fabric, and not for the first time, Charlie cursed the day they bought the bastarding awkward thing. "I swear, I am going to kill those Al-Bhed bastards for selling us this tent."

"You say that every time," David commented. He took hold of one side of the fabric and deftly swung it over the closest pole.

"That's cos it's true every time. If they made tents that were easier to put up, maybe I wouldn't have to issue death threats every time we want to sleep in it."

Rob sniggered. "You're just bitter because you're rubbish at manly outdoors stuff."

"Some of us aren't made to swan around a forest, hugging trees and being one with nature like namby pamby hippy dickheads."

A fact which I reckon _some of us _are bitter about." Rob spread his arms out and did a twirl, accidentally knocking into a tree as he did. "Ow. Fucking tree!"

"It doesn't love you like you love it, Rob. I foresee this relationship failing." David laughed. "But don't worry, we can find you a nice Ochu somewhere, eh?"

"Phwoar," Charlie said lecherously. "Nothing like a nice bit of vine action." He ducked as Rob threw a handful of leaves at his head. "Check out the buds on _that_!" He made an obscene gesture, and David guffawed. Charlie liked it when David laughed like that. It was one of the few times when there wasn't a kind of sadness behind his smile or a faraway look in his eyes like he was saying goodbye to every place they visited. He knew it was a Summoner's lot, but fuck, that didn't mean he had to like it.

xXx

Their tent was huge, in theory. But theories don't count for shit when there's three of you trying to cram in comfortably. Charlie had got used to waking up in the middle of the night to a cold spot where David should have been. Usually he left him to it - he knew that David liked his alone time - but tonight. No. Not after what he'd said about those dreams, which explained the nightly absences all too well. _Not leaving you alone ever again_, Charlie thought with certainty.

He blinked at the gloomy tent. Rob was still there, snoring like usual, and he could see David silhouetted against the fabric. The embers of the fire were still smouldering, and David was staring into them with concentration so intense that he didn't even notice Charlie coming up behind him.

Charlie cleared his throat discreetly, and David started. "I- I didn't see you."

"Is it the dreams?"

David nodded, turning his gaze back to the fire as if he was embarrassed to meet Charlie's eye.

"Fuck, David. Why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"

"And what exactly could you have done about it? It's not like we could go book to see a therapist for Summoners, is it? You've just got to fucking get on with it. What would they say, anyway. 'Oh don't worry Lord Mitchell, soon Sin will destroy everything and everyone you love and then you won't be alive any more to have horrible dreams.' Brilliant. I love a good prediction of doom. Nothing like it to really intensify those nightmares."

_Everyone you love? No, don't mention it. It's probably not you. Who'd love someone with a face like a sackful of squashed toads? _Charlie smiled grimly, and sat himself down next to David. He stared into the embers, willing himself to forget what he'd just heard and just be unselfish, for one night of his life. "Fucking therapists, who needs them." He leaned against David and tried not to pay too much attention to the fact that his thigh was pressed against David's, and that his shoulder was pressed against David's, and that he could smell the clean, _familiar_ smell of him. "All they do is talk bollocks at you until you're so confused you agree with everything they say."

"Mm," David said. He sounded doubtful and slightly distracted as he continued to stare into the guttering remains of the fire.

"You have to sleep some time," Charlie said, softly. He felt like a prick for saying it, but it was true. _What happens if we're ambushed by something big and you're too tired to summon?_ he wanted to ask, but he held back as David opened his mouth as if to say something.

A tiny noise escaped David's lips, almost imperceptible unless you were staring at him like a lovelorn teenaged puppy. He dropped his gaze down to his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap and, in that moment, looked so fucking lost that Charlie couldn't stand it any more. Against every ounce of his better judgement he reached out and cradled the back of David's head with one hand, turning it so that Charlie was looking right into his ridiculous dark eyes. There was a look of intense bewilderment on David's face as Charlie moved in, his eyes flickering downwards and then back up again.

"Er," David said, a split second before their lips met.

Charlie dropped his hand like it'd been burned. "You know," he mumbled. "Just, er. Stay strong, yeah?" He shuffled sharply away from David, mourning as a rush of air replaced the delicious warmth where he'd been pressed against his shoulder.

"Charlie?" David looked even more bewildered than before as Charlie stood up with a fake cough.

"We should get Rob to nick you some Sleeping Powder next time we come across some Mushrooms," he said with false cheeriness. _Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What the hell did you go and do that for you foetid excuse for a cunt?_ "I'm just gonna," He waved at the tent. "You know." _Escape_, his mind supplied. _Escape like the cock-sucking coward that you are. Go on, go and pretend like nothing happened. It's better than rejection, isn't it? Better than seeing his look of disgust at being so close to your fucking potato face._


End file.
